A Small Favor
by muchtvs
Summary: Early season one. Kirsten asks Ryan and Seth for a favor. What could possibly go wrong? Completed.
1. Default Chapter

Disclaimer: The OC is owned by people with much more money than myself.  
  
Author's note: (Red lights flashing...warning...warning...warning. There be candy ahead. Lots and lots of candy, guaranteed to rot your eyes as you read it. This is pointless shenanigans. And there are 4 chapters of it, which means it is sequential, pointless candy. I needed a break from my angst. The follow-up to Thursday Afternoon is coming, I promise. This is just a diversion.)  
  
This story takes place after The Debut and before the finale. How's that for giving myself some wiggle room.  
  
Liz the beta...thanks.

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A Small Favor  
  
Chapter One

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Seth flies out the back door of his home with amazing agility for a skinny white boy. His destination, the pool house, is a mere few yards away. He skids to a stop, swings open the unlocked pool house door and is greeted by a wide-eyed Ryan walking out of the bathroom.  
  
"Seth?" Ryan asks questioningly.  
  
The phone rings.  
  
Seth frantically turns his head towards the noise, then looks back at Ryan wild eyed.  
  
Ryan advances towards the phone and Seth holds out his hands.  
  
"No! Ryan! Stop! Don't answer that. Let's go, we have to get out of here."  
  
The phone rings again.  
  
Ryan takes another step closer to the phone; Seth takes another step closer to Ryan.  
  
The phone rings a third time.  
  
"Ryan, dude, please, do not answer that phone," Seth begs.  
  
A fourth ring.  
  
"Seth?" Ryan's question drips of amusement and confusion.  
  
Silence.  
  
The answering machine picks up.  
  
Ryan's recorded voice fills the pool house, "_I'm not here, leave a message_."  
  
A beep, followed by, "Ryan? It's Kirsten. If you're there, can you pick up please? I need a favor."  
  
Ryan moves swiftly to the phone, reaches for the receiver.  
  
"Ryan? I was hoping you were there. Are you there? Please pick up." Kirsten sounds rushed, panicky. There's no way Ryan can blow her off.  
  
"No, no, no, no, no, no, no," Seth pleads.  
  
Ryan ignores him and picks up the receiver anyway.  
  
Kirsten relief is immediately evident, "Oh Ryan, thank God I got a hold of you. I need a small favor."  
  
Seth throws himself down on Ryan's bed, his face in his hands, his head shaking back and forth. Ryan rolls his eyes at the dramatic display and continues to listen to his foster mother.  
  
"Ryan? You're there right?"  
  
"Yeah," he has to look away from Seth or there is no way he's going to be able to concentrate on a single thing Kirsten is saying.  
  
"I goofed up Ryan. I let a conference call go on too long and now there's an accident on the 55."  
  
Ryan remains silent, waiting for her to continue.  
  
"And I have to host the Newpsies get-together this afternoon. They're going to be at the house in ten minutes Ryan. I just ran to the grocery store, everything's in my car. I don't even have anything in the fridge for you to put out for them."  
  
She has got to be kidding, Ryan thinks to himself. He has never seen a refrigerator more stocked than the Cohen's. He's not even sure if there is an actual back wall to it.  
  
"I thought I could make it, but with the accident..." Kirsten is rambling now. Ryan interrupts her.  
  
"Hey, it's cool." He looks over at Seth who has given up on the bed theatrics and is standing again, concentrating intently on what Ryan is saying, his arms crossed tightly around his chest. "Seth and I will take care of it."  
  
Seth reacts to Ryan's words, jumps up and down, shifts his hands back and forth, and mouths 'No,' again and again.  
  
"Ryan, I don't know how to thank you!" Kirsten enthuses.  
  
Ryan blushes inwardly. She doesn't know how to thank him? Talk about a ludicrous role reversal.  
  
"Uh, what should we do?" Ryan asks, unsure of what he has just gotten himself into.  
  
"Just...have them sit down and explain to them I'm stuck in traffic, I should be there in twenty minutes, half an hour tops. Really Ryan, thanks so much."  
  
"It's no problem Kirsten," Ryan assures her, hoping he sounds more confident than he feels.  
  
"Oh and Ryan?" Kirsten adds. "Tell Seth he is so very grounded when I get home. I know damn well my cell phone was not breaking up when he hung up on me."  
  
Ryan glances at Seth. The youngest Cohen is attempting a hasty retreat from the pool house.  
  
"I gotta go now," Ryan tells Kirsten, and hangs up the phone. "Seth!" he barks out.  
  
"It's every man for himself," Seth advises Ryan as he reaches for the doorknob, begins to turn it.  
  
"Seth!" Ryan raises his voice.  
  
"I told you not to answer the phone," Seth turns around and whines at Ryan. "Why did you answer the phone?"  
  
"You hung up on Kirsten?" Ryan states bluntly.  
  
"Self-preservation Ryan," Seth shoots back. "It wouldn't hurt you to get some."  
  
Ryan stomps over to Seth, grabs him by the forearm, and steers the smaller boy out the door. "Come on, I'm not doing this alone. Let's go."  
  
"Ow," Seth complains, tries to break loose. Ryan maintains his strong hold until the duo reaches the main house. He lets loose of his foster brother once they enter the kitchen.  
  
Seth begins rummaging through a utensil draw; he emerges brandishing a huge knife.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ryan asks incredulously.  
  
"Arming myself," Seth answers as he grabs a large pan lid and holds it out in front of himself like a shield.  
  
"You're being ridiculous," Ryan dismisses him. "Get a grip."  
  
The doorbell rings and Seth's body goes rigid. He turns to Ryan with fear in his eyes. "Oh God Ryan, they're here. Nothing can save us now. We're doomed."  
  
Ryan walks over to Seth and grabs the knife from him. "You're certifiable," he tells Seth as he puts the sharp blade back in the drawer.  
  
The doorbell rings again.  
  
"They won't go away." Seth says in a small voice. "They'll just keep ringing and ringing."  
  
Ryan shakes his head at him and slowly shuffles to the front door. The doorbell rings a third time and he answers it. A petite woman most likely in her forties stands front and center, two other women behind her.  
  
"Well hello," she purrs at Ryan. "I'm Monica Standish. Kirsten is expecting us?"  
  
"Um, yeah," Ryan stands aside, invites the women in with a shy gesture of his hand. "She's uh, running a little late. Would you like to come in and have a seat? She should... she'll be here pretty soon."  
  
"Well aren't you adorable," Monica remarks, patting Ryan on the head as she walks by.  
  
Ryan freezes under her hand and doesn't relax until she breaks the contact. Another car pulls up, and three more women make their way to the door Ryan is holding open.  
  
"We're in here girls," Ryan hears Monica call out. "Kirsten's running late."  
  
Ryan gives one last peek at the driveway before he closes the front door. Gingerly walking into the living room, he stops dead in his tracks as all six women stare at him in unison.  
  
Ryan slides his hands nervously down the sides of his jeans. Suddenly his throat is dryer than a desert. He wonders if the women would notice if he snuck off for a glass of water.  
  
Water...drinks.  
  
"Could I uh..." Ryan falters. "Would..." He makes eye contact with one of the less intimidating looking women. "Are you thirsty?" He fumbles.  
  
"Dying of!" Monica reacts from across the room. "Do you have any orange juice?" She poses demurely.  
  
Ryan nods.  
  
"Oh, be an absolute dear and get us some, will you honey?"  
  
Ryan nods again, and turns to exit the living room. As he enters the kitchen, he hears Monica add, "And some vodka darling. Don't forget the vodka."  
  
Ryan grimaces and walks over to the pantry where Sandy and Kirsten keep the more mundane alcohol. Seth is sitting at the breakfast bar eating a bowl of cereal. Ryan throws him a disgusted look.  
  
"These are trying times Ryan," Seth informs his foster brother. "I'm keeping my strength up."  
  
Ryan doesn't comment. He retrieves the vodka from the cabinet, reaches over for Seth's bowl, snatches it out from under him and slams the dish into the sink.  
  
Seth holds a spoonful of cereal under his open mouth  
  
"Ryan...I was eating that."  
  
"Well now you're not," Ryan snaps. He points at the china hutch which contains the highball glasses, commands Seth, "Glasses, now."  
  
Seth places his spoon on the kitchen counter, stands up and swirls his finger in the direction of the vodka bottle.  
  
"Whatcha got going there Ryan?"  
  
"We," Ryan enunciates slowly, "Are making them," he tilts the bottle towards the living room, "Screwdrivers."  
  
Seth cocks his head. "Do you think that's a wise move big guy, seeing as how WE aren't even allowed to touch THAT?" He points to the vodka.  
  
Ryan struggles to open the still sealed bottle. He lifts his head and glances up at Seth with annoyance. "Do you have a better idea?"  
  
Seth shrugs, concedes Ryan's point.  
  
From the living room, Monica's voice reverberates through the house, "I like my ice crushed sweetie."  
  
Seth blows out a stream of air, opens up the china cabinet.  
  
"How many glasses?" He asks Ryan dully.  
  
"Six." The teen counters without enthusiasm.  
  
Monica calls out, "And some sliced low-fat cheese, ok? Don't go to any trouble. Some American Baby Swiss would be fabulous. No crackers-modified Atkins, you know."  
  
Ryan screws the lid off the bottle of vodka, looks forlornly in the direction of the living room, and then back down to the open bottle of liquor.  
  
Maybe he should ask Seth to get seven glasses.  
  
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To be continued...such as it is.


	2. A Small Favor Chapter Two

Disclaimer: The OC is owned by someone with much more money than me.

Author's Note: I can't believe I got reviews for this piece of fluff. You guys are great. And some of you actually expect a plot. Sigh. These waters do not run deep folks. As always, thanks for reading, although I suspect I may lose a few of you after this effort.

Clap and tip of the hat to Liz the beta.

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A Small Favor  
  
Chapter Two  
  
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Ryan retrieves a coaster and gently places a glass in front of Monica Standish. He's filled her drink too high and is concentrating hard on not spilling any of it.  
  
Monica inspects the glass, delicately smells it, nods in approval and takes a dainty sip.  
  
"That," she smiles at Ryan, "is one well made drink."  
  
Ryan sneaks a peek at her. He's not sure what to say. He's sixteen. Making a competent screwdriver isn't really something he should be proud of, or at the very least advertise to Kirsten's friends. He slinks away without acknowledging the woman's comment.  
  
The other five Newpsies follow Monica's lead, sipping their drinks and making polite compliments to Ryan as he exits the living room and goes back into the kitchen to find Seth.  
  
"Why didn't you help me in there?" he hits Seth on the arm.  
  
"Ow," Seth rubs at his smarting appendage. "Would you please stop man- handling me?"  
  
"Well you're not helping!" Ryan jeers, trying to sound assertive without raising his voice.  
  
"I got the glasses," Seth defends himself.  
  
Ryan lowers his head and raises his eyebrows. Seth can be so positively full of shit sometimes. "Did you at least cut up the cheese?" He asks exasperated.  
  
Seth points to the kitchen counter where at least five packages of deli sliced cheese are lying.  
  
"Start cutting it up." Ryan directs Seth.  
  
"How?" Seth questions.  
  
"You don't know how to cut up cheese?" Ryan asks amazed.  
  
"I don't know, it's cheese." Seth rationalizes. "Isn't it already sliced? Besides, I think it's supposed to be in chunks. We need chunky cheese Ryan. Do we have any toothpicks? We need chunks of cheese and toothpicks." Seth raises a finger to the flat cheese, "I can't work under these conditions. You can't spear flat cheese. I mean you could, but then it just breaks apart when you try and lift it, and then you're back to a slice of flat cheese with no way of picking it up other than using your fingers. But even that is tricky because sometimes it kind of molds to the surface it's resting on, unless it's frozen but frozen cheese sucks, so...Hey, have you read _The Cheese Monkeys_? It's a kick-ass book. Cheese and monkeys, both in the title, how could you go wrong?"  
  
Ryan stares at him.  
  
"Ok, well," Seth shrugs, "Maybe they'll settle for popcorn. Go in there and push the Orville Redenbacher."  
  
Ryan puts his hands to his head and rubs the palms of his hands into his eyes. His head snaps up when he hears Mrs. Standish call out, "Sweetie, can you come here a moment please?"  
  
Ryan points to the living room, commands Seth, "You go in there."  
  
Seth adamantly shakes his head no.  
  
Ryan pushes him into the living room.  
  
"Seth, honey, is that you?" Monica asks playfully. "Look at how much you've grown. What are you in now, eighth grade?"  
  
Seth smiles, his teeth clamped together. He nods and answers, "Yes Mrs. Standish, how good of you to notice, seventh grade was a bitch but thanks, I managed to squeak by."  
  
Monica cackles, dismisses Seth's comments with a wave of her hand, "You do have your father's razor-sharp wit. I'm just having a little fun darling, I know you're a junior."  
  
"Ahh," Seth responds dryly, making a helpless face in Ryan's direction.  
  
"Now where is the blond one?" Monica asks. She spots Ryan behind Seth. "Oh, there you are, come over here sweetie, tell me, who exactly are you? I don't recognize you." She pats the seat next to her on the couch.  
  
Ryan shudders.  
  
Seth tries to help with distraction. "Um, Mrs. Standish? I thought you were living in the South of France."  
  
"Ugh!" Monica takes a large gulp of her drink. "I was. Then I caught John- Paul sleeping with a seventeen-year-old maid. The girl didn't even have good skin."  
  
One of the Newpsies clicks her tongue and says, "I am so sorry Monica. What a rat."  
  
Monica takes another drink, "Yep, he's a bastard. At least I never bother to change my name anymore. Saves time."  
  
The Newpsies nod among themselves, and Ryan tries to retreat into the kitchen.  
  
"Blond boy," Monica's voice drifts to him, "Come here, not so fast." She pats the sofa again. Smiles.  
  
"Um, Mrs. Standish," Seth attempts to save Ryan from a Close Encounter of the Newpsie Kind, "This is Ryan Atwood. Ryan, this is Mrs. Standish."  
  
She waves enthusiastically from across the room.  
  
"Ryan lives here now." Seth adds clumsily.  
  
"Are you Kirsten's son?" Mrs. Standish asks with false innocence.  
  
One of the Newpsies chokes on her drink. "Monica," she chastises. "Behave."  
  
"Well he looks just like her." Mrs. Standish offers.  
  
"Uh, I was having some trouble at home and the Cohens took me in," Ryan mumbles. "They've been great."  
  
Monica softens at Ryan's frank confession. "Sandy and Kirsten are good people," she agrees, winks at Ryan, "And you are quite the gentleman, so obviously things are working out well."  
  
She quickly changes the subject, turns to another sofa full of Newpsies and inquires as to what has been going on since she left for France last year.  
  
Seth and Ryan take advantage of the momentary diversion to beat a speedy withdrawal back to the kitchen.  
  
Ryan leans against the wall and closes his eyes.  
  
"Want to borrow that knife now?" Seth asks.  
  
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To be continued...despite lingering reservations.


	3. A Small Favor Chapter Three

Disclaimer: The OC is owned by someone with much more money than me.  
  
Author's note: **Naija**: Seth and Ryan taking their clothes off for money huh? I might have to add a fifth chapter. **MissSuga**: Do you think I covered all the stereotypes? None of them have a nervous, annoying, small dog in a handbag. Although in retrospect, I wish I had included one. It could be nipping at Seth.  
  
I'm sure everyone was barely able to function today wondering if there would be an update. Calm yourselves, here it is.  
  
As always, thanks for reading and reviewing, (laughing to myself). You guys are the best.  
  
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A Small Favor  
  
Chapter Three  
  
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Ryan sits at the breakfast bar, shoulders hunched, waiting for his next summons into the living room.  
  
Seth reaches for the phone.  
  
"Who are you calling?" Ryan asks.  
  
"The exterminator," Seth deadpans. "We've got Newpsies."  
  
Ryan rolls his head to one side, shoots Seth an exasperated look.  
  
"Dude, I'm calling mama bear. It's been twenty minutes. The swarm is growing restless."  
  
"Bugging her isn't going to help Seth," Ryan warns. "It's the start of rush hour."  
  
The entrance of Monica Standish interrupts their conversation.  
  
"Boys, we're running low on drinks, could I bother you for some refreshers?"  
  
Seth sets the phone back into its cradle, looks at Ryan for guidance.  
  
"Yeah, sure," Ryan replies, and takes the glass from Monica. "Uh, Seth, can you grab the rest?"  
  
Seth nods and scurries into the living room, leaving Mrs. Standish and Ryan alone.  
  
Ryan fills up Mrs. Standish's glass with crushed ice, reaches into the fridge for the orange juice, and then pours in the vodka. Lastly, he retrieves a two-liter of Sprite from the refrigerator and adds a dash to the mixture.  
  
"I knew there was a mystery ingredient you sneaky little devil," Monica teases.  
  
Ryan blushes.  
  
"Ryan dear, how old _are_ you?" Mrs. Standish inquires.  
  
Ryan stirs the drink, doesn't look up. "Sixteen."  
  
"I'm guessing Kirsten Cohen didn't teach you how to make a screwdriver?"  
  
Ryan doesn't respond.  
  
Monica walks over to Ryan, leans across him to retrieve her drink. Her arm brushes up against him and she politely excuses herself. Ryan steps aside awkwardly.  
  
"Don't worry Little Boy Blue, your secret is safe with me."  
  
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In the living room, Seth is balancing five almost empty glasses and mentally checking waiter off his list of future occupations.  
  
"Seth honey," one of the Newpsies calls for his attention. "Could you possibly find something for us to munch on? Kirsten mentioned appetizers."  
  
"Um," Seth fumbles with the glasses, "I think she's bringing those home with her."  
  
"Well, you must have something," another Newpsie insists.  
  
A third Newpsie whispers to her friends, "Go find that boy they have living in the pool house, he's much more helpful."  
  
"I can make popcorn."  
  
Seth regrets his offer immediately. Its sounds pathetic even to him.  
  
"I haven't had popcorn in years," Newpsie number one says wistfully.  
  
"Is it that kettle-corn kind?" Newpsie number two asks, obviously interested.  
  
"Popcorn is so bad for you," Newpsie number three conspires.  
  
"I'll be right back ladies," Seth excuses himself.  
  
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"You're actually giving them popcorn?" Ryan asks incredulously. Seth gingerly pulls a hot bag of popcorn out of the microwave and stands back as steam plumes from the unopened bag.  
  
"Yes," Seth answers defensively.  
  
"We're serving some of the most powerful women in Newport Beach screwdrivers and popcorn at 3:45 in the afternoon." Ryan says more to himself than Seth.  
  
"Well, when you say it like that," Seth shrugs.  
  
"Kirsten's going to kill us." Ryan predicts.  
  
"Hey, I'm only responsible for the popcorn," Seth taunts as he exits the kitchen.  
  
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Ryan finishes making the new round of drinks. He balances them on a tray and walks into the living room. Seth is sitting on the couch between two Newpsies. One of them reaches into his hair and attempts to push down an unruly curl.  
  
"Your hair is just so...springy," she declares joyfully.  
  
Seth looks up helplessly as Ryan enters the room, "Oh look everyone, Ryan's back with more drinks."  
  
Seth jumps off the sofa, goes to Ryan's side and reaches for two of the glasses.  
  
"How much alcohol was in those drinks?" He whispers to Ryan. "I think that Mrs. Halsey..." he sneaks a point towards the Newpsie that was playing with his hair, "Just pinched my butt!"  
  
Ryan looks at the other teen skeptically, "Not _that_ much alcohol."  
  
"Whatever." Seth dismisses Ryan's barb. "I'm telling you dude, Mrs. Halsey is hot for teacher."  
  
Ryan shakes his head.  
  
"Seth Cohen!" Mrs. Halsey squeals, "Is that my drink you're holding?"  
  
"Yes Mrs. Halsey," Seth replies, his answer reminiscent of a first grader in roll call. Seth walks to the sofa and dispenses his two drinks while Ryan circulates around the room distributing the rest.  
  
"Did Kirsten mention what time she was arriving?" Mrs. Standish asks Ryan as he passes by her.  
  
"Uh, not really. Maybe fifteen more minutes?" Ryan cringes.  
  
"The ladies need entertainment," she informs Ryan. "We've already recapped all five of my failed marriages, Jimmy Cooper's felonious activities and Barbara Van Heusman's three boob jobs."  
  
Ryan suggests, "Maybe you could just get the meeting started."  
  
"Honey," Monica states candidly, "Do you honestly think any of us know what's on the agenda? That's what Kirsten is for."  
  
Ryan gazes out into the Newpsie crowd. Seth may be right about Mrs. Halsey. The woman has the teen trapped on the couch again and is pinching his cheeks.  
  
"Ryan?" Seth locks eyes on him, mouths, 'Help me...please.'  
  
"Someone must know why all of you are here." Ryan persists.  
  
Monica shakes her head back and forth, laughs. "Don't look at me. I just got back last week from France. Tish Martin called me this morning and told me she was picking me up. I have no idea why I'm here."  
  
"Ryan?" Seth says from across the room, his voice cracking with desperation.  
  
"Does anybody want to watch TV?" Ryan hastily proposes. All six Newpsies stare at him as if a second head has sprouted.  
  
Newpsie number two hiccups.  
  
"Ryan knows how to play poker," Seth pipes in.  
  
"Oh goodie!" Monica claps excitedly.  
  
"I'll go get the cards," Seth propels himself off the couch.  
  
"I do so love a good game of poker." Mrs. Standish smiles impishly.  
  
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To be continued......because if you've made it this far, what's one more chapter?


	4. A Small Favor Chapter Four

Disclaimer: The OC is owned by someone with much more money than me.  
  
Author's note: I should have posted yesterday but I toyed around a bit with incorporating a small annoying dog nipping at Seth. Then I decided that if I did that, this fluff would have indeed have jumped the shark. So here it is, in its original riveting format. I'm very sorry if the posting delay drove anyone into his or her therapist's office.  
  
Oh, and I absolutely MUST clear up a developing controversy. Yes, Julie Cooper is a Newpsie. But this is a small gathering, a committee of only seven. And Julie's not a member of this particular committee. But don't worry; she gets a shout-out this 'chapter'. Whew, hope now the plot is one hundred percent believable, (cough, cough.).  
  
Thanks for reading and reviewing everyone. I must say, fluff is much more easier to write than the angst. Sigh.  
  
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A Small Favor  
  
Chapter Four  
  
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"Explain to me why I have to put money out when I don't even know if I want to play," Mrs. Foster nudges Ryan on the arm. "This is very confusing. I don't think I like this."  
  
"It's called an ante," Ryan patiently explains for the fourth time. "You have to put money in the pot in order to play."  
  
"Pot?" Monica Standish looks up with some interest from a magazine she is browsing through. "Oh, poker, right. Just conversation surfing darlings, sorry."  
  
"I don't think we should play with real money," Ryan says, trying to shake Mrs. Foster's right hand from his bicep. "We should play with pennies or something."  
  
Mrs. Standish laughs lightheartedly, "Pennies. Really, you are a breath of fresh air Ryan."  
  
"Actually Ryan, technically, pennies are real money," Seth reminds him. Ryan glares.  
  
"Ok, so," Ryan tries to salvage the poker game that has yet to start. "Does everybody have their ante in?"  
  
"My drink is empty," Mrs. Halsey whines.  
  
"Mine too," another Newpsie pesters.  
  
"We could play one hand and then make more drinks," Ryan suggests, hoping to distract the women from another round of screwdrivers. It's only been ten or fifteen minutes since he last refreshed their glasses. Where the hell is Kirsten?  
  
"Let's take a vote," Monica suggests. "Who wants another drink?"  
  
All six Newpsies raise their hands.  
  
"Majority rules," Mrs. Standish gestures. "Boys, back to the kitchen."  
  
Seth removes himself from the end table that is acting as an impromptu poker table.  
  
"Come on Ryan, duty calls." He grimaces and waves conciliating at Mrs. Halsey.  
  
Afraid to turn his back on the women, Ryan steps backwards into the kitchen, pulling Seth along with him.  
  
"We can't give them more drinks Seth, Kirsten is going to kill us."  
  
"This might be a good time to point out, yet again, that I'm only responsible for the popcorn."  
  
Ryan smacks Seth's arm.  
  
"Dude, stop hitting me." Seth complains. "We seriously need to install a punching bag in the pool house. Displaced Aggression Ryan, Goggle it and have a read."  
  
"Well we have to do something." Ryan insists. "Kirsten is going to be home any minute."  
  
Seth snaps his fingers. "We'll make coffee."  
  
"Coffee?" Ryan asks doubtfully, and raises his eyebrows.  
  
"Coffee." Seth confirms. He walks over to a cabinet, produces a bag of freshly grounded coffee.  
  
"Hazelnut Delight," Seth announces proudly, kisses and hugs the bag.  
  
"Seth? Ryan?" Mrs. Halsey summons from the living room. "You boys need any help in there?"  
  
Seth peeks around the corner. "No Mrs. Halsey thanks. We've got it covered."  
  
She winks at him and Seth immediately pulls his head back.  
  
"I'll get the coffee pot,' he hurriedly tells Ryan.  
  
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"This is coffee," Mrs. Foster grumbles.  
  
"Never could get a damn thing past you Gretchen," Mrs. Standish quips sarcastically.  
  
"I don't want coffee," a Newpsie pouts. "Monica get the blonde boy to make more drinks."  
  
"We've moved past that Tish," Monica gently chides, "His name is Ryan."  
  
"Oh," Tish Martin sits duly chastised. "Sorry." She pauses a moment before starting her thought over. "Monica, tell Ryan to make us more drinks."  
  
"The vodka is gone," Seth blurts out. "All gone. Ryan...dropped the bottle. Big shatter." Seth mocks an explosion with his hands. "Glass everywhere, many lives were lost. Right Ryan?"  
  
Ryan exaggerates a nod in collaboration.  
  
"Is that the best you two can come up with?" Monica asks with amusement.  
  
"Yeah," Seth comes clean. "Pretty much."  
  
"I'm home," a familiar voce rings out.  
  
"Thank God," Ryan mumbles.  
  
"So, how is everyone?" Kirsten inquires as she breezes into the room with several bags in her hands.  
  
"Your pool boy is teaching us how to play poker," Mrs. Foster informs Kirsten, holding five cards up in the air.  
  
"Kirsten, where did you get this delicious popcorn? It's the best ever." Another Newpsie asks.  
  
Kirsten stares at her and blinks.  
  
"Seth's hair is so springy." Mrs. Halsey contributes excitedly.  
  
"Boys. Kitchen. Now." Kirsten commands through a fake smile.  
  
"Kirsten sweetie, did you bring home any appetizers?" Monica Standish inquires innocently.  
  
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"Are those women drunk?" Kirsten tries to emphasize her question while keeping her voice level in check.  
  
"Not all of them." Seth counters. She swipes at his arm.  
  
"Ouch!" gripes Seth. "Why are people hitting me?"  
  
"Why is my Newpsie Landscaping Committee sitting in the living room three sheets to the wind Seth?" Kirsten ignores his protest.  
  
"It's all my fault," Ryan confesses. "They wanted screwdrivers."  
  
"And you actually made them?" Kirsten asks with angry astonishment.  
  
"Don't be silly Kirsten," Monica interrupts the three of them. "I made the drinks. The boys made the popcorn. I'm not sure who's responsible for the poker."  
  
Kirsten studies the teenagers carefully. "Is that true?"  
  
Seth hem-haws without really committing. Ryan remains silent, mentally weighing his options. Mrs. Standish continues.  
  
"Kirsten, about those appetizers."  
  
"This isn't over you two," Kirsten hisses as she drops the bags on the kitchen counter.  
  
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Seth and Ryan lay on the lounge chairs by the pool, sneaking occasional glances into the house. Kirsten hasn't emerged from her Newpsie meeting yet.  
  
"This is totally screwy that we're in trouble," Seth grumbles. "We were only doing what she wanted. It's not our fault that the cream of the Newport crop is a bunch of boozers."  
  
"Seth." Ryan rolls over on the lounger, "When Kirsten comes out, ... don't...say...anything."  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
"I like your newest addition." Monica whispers to Kirsten as they sit on the sofa, watching the rest of the Newpsies engage in a few minutes of post meeting gossip.  
  
"Ryan?" Kirsten asks.  
  
Monica nods. "He's awfully good with Seth. Come to mention it, I don't think I've ever seen your son so confident or carefree."  
  
Kirsten smiles. "Ryan's been wonderful for Seth."  
  
Monica picks up her purse, prepares to leave. "Julie Cooper called a few days ago, told me all about him. She seems to think he's a juvenile delinquent whose presence is either going to drop all of our property values or cause our sweet, naive children to hold an uprising."  
  
Kirsten's smile fades away. She stares blankly out at her fellow Newpsies.  
  
"You know," Mrs. Standish says wistfully, "A lot of things have changed in the year I've been gone. But Julie Cooper is still a grade A bitch."  
  
Kirsten turns to Monica and gives her a quick hug. "I've missed you Monica."  
  
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Kirsten exits her home's back door, sees the two boys waiting for her by the pool.  
  
Ryan clambers to get up while Seth remains seated.  
  
Kirsten tosses the car keys to Ryan. "Thanks for covering for me guys. Why don't you two go catch a movie? Be home by ten though, it's a school night."  
  
Seth is suddenly motivated to stand up. "Well ok mother, now we're talking. Ryan, let's bounce man."  
  
Ryan doesn't move. He jingles the keys in his hands nervously. "I, uh, I made the drinks, not Mrs. Standish."  
  
"Ryan!" Seth shushes under his breath. "Let's not disappoint the Kirsten. She wants to show her gratitude."  
  
"I made the drinks," Ryan reiterates.  
  
Seth flops his hands to his side and sits back down with a sigh.  
  
"Oh, I figured that out Ryan," Kirsten assures the teen. "Don't do that again. Now go, have a good time."  
  
Seth claps his hands together and springs off the lounger.  
  
"And Seth," Kirsten walks over to him, puts her hand on his shoulder, "Don't ever hang up on me."  
  
"Absolutely not ever." Seth vows. "Never ever." He places two fingers over his heart and his head on his mother's shoulder. "Scouts honor."  
  
"God, get him out of here," Kirsten implores of Ryan while pushing Seth off her shoulder.  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
Kirsten follows the boys out of the house, smiles as Seth argues over who should drive. Her biological son wins out over the foster one and as Ryan is climbing into the Rover, Kirsten motions him over.  
  
"Make sure you're home by ten," she repeats her guidelines.  
  
Ryan nods, "Okay," adds mischievously, "Scouts honor."  
  
As he walks back to the car Kirsten calls after him, "Oh, and Ryan? Monica Standish says welcome to the neighborhood."  
  
The teenager drops his head and sheepishly grins.  
  
As the car pulls out of the driveway, Kirsten hears Seth shout out the driver's window, "Mom! We need more vodka. And put away the cheese."  
  
-----------------------------------------  
  
The End....Finis.....There is no more. I'm signing autographs at the table by the door. 


End file.
